I haven’t had a sinus infection in a good three months, so clearly my timecard was going to get punched again. So here I am, honking into countless Puffs tissues – the kind with lotion – and putting petrolatum-based ointment around my nostrils. When I first noticed cold symptoms, I tried everything in my power to prevent it from turning into a sinus infection – inhaling saline nasal spray and letting it drip into my throat … SO GROSS …, taking decongestants (the good stuff they keep behind the counter to deter those meth heads from making meth in their meth labs that you have to sign in triplicate and provide three forms of Photo I.D. to get one pack from the Walgreens pharmacist), making sure I was taking vitamins daily (which I should be doing anyway, tsk tsk) and finally, sanitizing my ass off. Blow my nose? Sanitize. Blow a kid’s nose (because of course they’re both sick)? Sanitize.
I did, however, stop short of using a neti pot, although I hear this is like the be all and end all of sinus clear-outage.
Aside from the usual crappy symptoms and general malaise that go along with such an ailment, I have one more added consequence of being sick: I cannot taste, or smell, ANYTHING. I could be holding the steaming rear end of a skunk up to my nose and I’d be like, hey, this skunk is broken.
This has some pros and cons which I’ve observed over the past few days, and I’d like to share those with you. There are times when I think it’s not such a bad thing to only be operating at 3/6 senses. Yep, I said six.
Decrease in appetite. Since I can’t taste the foods I love to eat but aren’t necessarily good for me, which include Red Vines, chips and pudding, I don’t eat them (as much). This should, theoretically, lead to some weight loss. I’m also finding myself eating smaller portions since the food is completely tasteless.
The denial of the existence of poopy diapers. Last night, my husband thought that Uncle Dom, our cat, had broken wind, the kind of which smelled of rotting garbage. I blissfully smelled nothing. I then sat Scribble on my lap, read him the lion book that he loves so much right now – twice – and put him down to go get me another book. Scribble wandered over by his dad, who immediately exclaimed, and I’m paraphrasing here, “Good GOD! It’s YOU!” and he promptly picked Scribble up and took him to get his diaper changed. Which meant, I didn’t have to do the changing. Thanks, defective sniffer!
I can eat stuff like squash, and not take much of a notice. With taste buds in fully-functioning operational mode, there is no way in hell I would willingly put squash in my mouth, let alone chew it, swallow it, and allow it to pass through my digestive tract. See also: arugula, asparagus, anything that touched a fish stick, spam, cool ranch flavor anything, etc. So I may as well take full advantage of the health benefits of eating otherwise unpalatable vegetables since I can’t taste them anyway.
I have no idea if/when I have B.O. Right now, I’m operating on blind faith. In the morning, I apply deodorant and perfume in the usual dosages based on past performance. However, I did do some hallway power walking at lunch (as powerful as my compromised immune system would allow without me getting light-headed and falling over. On a side note, I think I pulled a hammy on this walk. Is that even possible?), and as such, perspired in the underarm region. The effects of previously-applied deodorant and perfume could have long since worn off, leaving only the ripe human stink of sweaty pits, but I can’t be sure. Would people tell me if I stank? Or would they just turn their chairs ever so slightly away from me and breathe through their mouth for the rest of our 3:00 meeting?
Lack of enjoyment of rare treats. I took myself out to Chipotle yesterday for some hot burrito bol action, and couldn’t even taste the spicy corn salsa. A waste of $7.95. I would have been better off going to the salad bar across the street from my office and filling up a Styrofoam container with a heaping amount of squash and arugula for 4 bucks and saving my Chipotle indulgence for a time when I could enjoy every last calorie-packed bit of guac. See also: pros 1(a). Decrease in appetite.
I have no idea if the milk is spoiled. So I guess I’ll keep drinking it.
If the building is on fire, I’d have to rely on the smoke detectors doing their job. Does anyone smell smoke? I don’t.
I could kill brain cells and not even know it. Yeah, I’m holding this Sharpie up to my nose, but it doesn’t smell. Hey, this Sharpie is broken!
So, as you can see, the cons do outweigh the pros, although the potential for weight loss is a very attractive pro. Nonetheless, I will be seeing my quack-for-brains doctor tomorrow, who will no doubt prescribe me antibiotics that won’t work and I’ll see him again in two weeks for antibiotics that do work. In the meantime, I’ll be dining on arugula, diligently checking expiration dates on milk cartons, and doing a re-application of my deodorant mid-day, just in case.